


under the stars

by gigglingaesthetic



Category: Summer of 84 (2018)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, M/M, Stargazing, they do the kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 15:51:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16705345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigglingaesthetic/pseuds/gigglingaesthetic
Summary: The moonlight is dancing across Farraday’s pale skin, reflecting crescents in his glasses, and Eats firmly decides it should be illegal for someone to be this pretty.





	under the stars

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoy!

They’re sixteen and they’re stargazing in Farraday’s backyard. It’s 1:00 am and there’s a half empty bottle in between them that Farraday took from his parents’ basement. They’re both kind of buzzed— Eats can’t remember what was in the bottle, but _fuck_ it was strong, and now they’re lying on their backs gazing up at the night sky like this is a fucking romance movie and Farraday is Molly-fucking-Ringwald.

The moonlight is dancing across Farraday’s pale skin, reflecting crescents in his glasses, and Eats firmly decides it should be illegal for someone to be that pretty. It’s casting light upon the freckle on Farraday’s jaw, and Eats catches himself wondering what it would be like to kiss it, to have Farraday that close to him, to place his hands on the boy’s shoulders, his waist. He shuts it down, gritting his teeth. Those are dangerous thoughts.

He allows himself one more glance. Farraday’s eyes are half closed, lashes fluttering. His short hair is rumpled from the grass, and his glasses are slightly askew. Farraday pokes his tongue out to lick his lips. God, Eats shouldn’t have looked back.

There’s another freckle, this one on Farraday’s neck, and Eats mentally connects a line between the two, ignoring the whispers at the back of his mind wondering what it would be like to trace said line with his lips instead of his eyes. He’s tired of just looking. He wants to touch, wants to run his goddamn fingers through Farraday’s hair, wants to kiss his pretty fucking lips until he’s fucking speechless. He wants and he wants. 

_This is good_ , Eats thinks. _This is safe_. But god, he’s getting tired of safe, tired of pushing his feelings down and crushing his own hopes. He wants to dream. He wants to believe. He wants to do all that cheesy wishing-upon-stars shit. 

It’s a Friday night in July and he’s staying over at Farraday’s, a pattern that’s steadily increasing in frequency and repetition as Eats’ parents become more and more explosive, angrier and angrier, louder and louder. Eats gets home as late as possible and wakes up and gets out as early as possible. He, Farraday, and Davey have spent majority of their time this summer either biking, at Ipswich Lanes, or doing fuck-nothing in Farraday’s basement. (Occasionally they get high. Eats knows a guy, because of course he does.) They miss Woody. It’s getting better.

“Shit!” Farraday hisses in a not quite sober way, bringing Eats back to the night sky and the boy lying next to him, eyes dreamy. Farraday lifts his head an inch off the ground, the seriousness in his tone is stupidly endearing. “What if my parents just like.. look outside the window and bust our asses for stealing and drinking their shit?” 

“If they do, I’m dropping the blame on you,” Eats retorts, no menace anywhere near the tone.

Farraday’s head drops back to the grass. “Fuck me,” he sighs, brain and tongue loose and distracted from the alcohol.

“If you want me to,” Eats replies with a grin. Really, he had to. It was too easy. 

“Stuff it,” Farraday groans, but Eats swears his cheeks look a bit pink, even in the dim moonlight.

Eats leans a little closer, only half-for the joke. “Oh, that’s what you want? Hey, you’re not the first.” He teasingly rakes his eyes over Farraday. “But you _are_ the hottest.”

“Shut up,” Farraday groans, but that is definitely a blush on his cheeks, and that sends a swirl through Eats’ stomach. 

“Make me.”

“You did not just say that.” Farraday murmured, fond exasperation in every syllable.

“You bet your hot ass I did,” Eats winks, but he doesn’t think Farraday sees it in the dark.

“So you think my ass is hot?”

“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”

This banter isn’t new, really. Eats has a gift for making any conversation dirty, and a habit of jokingly flirting with his friends. Or in some cases, not so jokingly. ‘ _Some cases_ ’ refers to the boy lying beside him, cheeks redder than his hair.

Farraday sighs. “Why the fuck do I hang out with you?”

Eats drops his voice to a whisper, mock-conspiratory. “Sexual attraction.”

Farraday shoves him. 

They lie in silence for a moment, Farraday’s eyes on the sky, Eats’ eyes roaming Farraday’s profile, mapping every curve and line of his jaw and chin, following the slope of this nose. He’s so fucking nice to look at it hurts.

After a few moments, Farraday’s eyes shift to his. “So,” the boy beside him says awkwardly. “How’s.. uh... life and shit?”

Eats snorts a laugh. “How much did you have to drink?”

“The same as you,” Farraday protests. “Not that much.”

“Whatever,” Eats scoffs, “you’re a fucking lightweight, man.”

“No, you’re a lightweight,” Farraday spits, and this really is the dumbest conversation because they’re equally non-sober. “Nerd.”

“Says the guy who practically orgasms every time Captain Kirk is on TV.” Eats bites back.

“At least I didn’t get a boner watching _Indiana Jones_.” Farraday sniffs.

“I told you that in fucking _confidence_!” Eats cries as he smacks Farraday in the chest with his hand. Farraday snickers.

They fall into a comfortable silence for a minute, lost in thoughts. Eats uses his peripheral to see Farraday’s profile, eyes closed and lashes fluttering, seemingly lost in sleep and thought. Eats leans in toward the other boy’s side, ignoring the acceleration of his heart, and, poised, using his seductive voice, whispers directly into Farraday’s ear.

“ _Beam me up, Scotty_.”

“Shut _up_ , oh my God, I hate you,” Farraday hisses, blindly moving his hands to slap and poke Eats in the ribs, chest, and side, initiating a miniscule shoving match between the two. It really is a miracle that Farraday’s parents haven’t woken up yet.

“I’m going to start calling you _Starship Enter-me-prise_.” 

“I will kill you,” Farraday threatens, before immediately dropping the mock-anger and flopping back on the grass. “Speaking of stars, can we like, look at them now?”

Eats bites down on his lip to mentally stifle the tsunami of fondness rolling around inside his digestive system. “It was your idea,” he reminds Farraday, which is true. Eats would never have suggested they stargazed. But Farraday is impossible to say no to… well, at any time for Eats. So he sits back quietly and stares up at the sky.

Every time Farraday so much as shifts half an inch, Eats feels every cell in his body tense up. He’s doesn’t want to be safe, doesn’t want to play off the sourness he feels whenever anyone smiles sweetly at Farraday, doesn’t want to manually steady his breathing every time Farraday’s arm brushes his—

“The Big Dipper!” Farraday points up at the sky, mild excitement and definite amusement in his voice.

“It is _not_ , dickweed,” Eats laughs, slapping the boy’s pale hand down. Farraday doesn’t move it. He keeps it under Eats’s palm, against the grass. 

Eats’ heart is now hammering in his chest so loudly in his ears he’s sure Farraday could hear it. He knows it’s probably the alcohol, Farraday tends to be a clingy drunk— although they’re not really _drunk_ yet.

Farraday pulls his hand away, and Eats has a moment to exhale a mixture of relief and intense disappointment, before Farraday flops over on his side and effectively cuts off the air flow to Eats’ lungs with his mere fucking presence.

Farraday is clearly feeling the effects of the alcohol, his smile more confident than Eats has ever seen on his face. “Hey.”

“H-hey,” Eats croaks, as he slowly turns to face Farraday, every cell of his body blaring alarm bells and buzzing. 

Farraday beams like a stupid golden retriever in gigantic dorky glasses, radiating careless happiness. There’s an intense fondness in his eyes as he stares at Eats, and it’s startling, something amplifying the soft ache in his chest.

And then Farraday opens his mouth and says “You look really hot right now.”

Eats blinks. His brain shuts down, jaw dropped and mouth open. He just blanks, blanches, staring at the boy across from him, as Farraday realizes what he’s just said. Farraday’s’ eyes go just as wide as Eats’s feel. He seems to have processed his own words, regret painting a perfect portrait of horror and shock across his now-red face. “Um, I- I mean—”

“What _do_ you mean?” Eats barely manages to get the words past his lips. Farraday swallows nervously. Eats moves closer.

“I— I mean what I said.” Farraday rasps, and Eats can see that Farraday has also lessened the space between them. Eats can faintly feel Farraday’s hot breath on his lips, and he feels weak in the knees even though he’s not standing.

Eats‘ heart skips another stupid beat, and even he knows that’s more than just a signal.

In response, Eats reaches over a trembling hand on Farraday’s jaw, cupping it gently. His thumb lands softly on the original offending freckle, and he holds it there for a moment. He’s not sure if either of them are breathing.

Eats draws even closer, 

_Fuck safety_.

“You’re driving me crazy, asshole,” Eats whispers, his lips a bare inch from Farraday’s. His mouth can barely form the words and still manage to sound suave.

In response, Farraday lets out a long, shaky breath, and reaches over to place his hand on the nape of Eats’ neck. 

And oh god, they’re kissing, they’re kissing. Farraday’s mouth is moving against his, as if the stars all aligned fucking perfectly like this is some sort of _Sixteen Candles_ shit (Eats knows he’s gotten that comparison completely and blatantly wrong, he hasn’t seen _Sixteen Candles_ ). Eats never wants to move out of Farraday’s personal space again, and _fuck_ , why did he wait so long to do this?

They sit up, mouths only breaking apart once, before reconnecting clumsily. Farraday reaches up and tangles his fingers into Eats’ hair, and Eats lets out an affirmative noise. He tentatively puts his hands on Farraday’s shoulders, and wonders when he became the pussy of this duo. He moves his arms to Farraday’s waist, tugging him even closer, as if they weren’t already as physically close as possible, and Eats really wants to pinch himself to see if he’s dreaming. But Farraday’s tongue is now definitely, 100%, in his mouth, moving around insistently, and there’s no way he would have allowed himself to imagine that. 

Farraday clambers into his lap, and wow, okay, this is really happening. Eats adjusts his grip and pulls away briefly, as they both take a breath, before Eats returns to Farraday’s lips as if Farraday is fresh air and Eats has been drowning his entire life. It feels like he is, like now that Eats has this he’s realized how much he’s wanted it, needed it. How much he needs Farraday. Farraday’s glasses are pressing into his cheeks, definitely leaving imprints, marks, but Eats can’t bring himself to care in the fucking slightest, not when Farraday slides his hands out of Eats’ hair to rest on the back of Eats’ neck, slowing the kiss down. This is less ‘horny teenagers’ and more ‘you actually mean something to me’ and as much as that scares Eats, he doesn’t pull away until Farraday does, reluctantly, and Farraday rests his forehead against Eats’, breathing heavily.

“How long?” Farraday whispers, their heads still touching. The question isn’t complete or clarified, but Eats knows exactly what he means. Farraday likes cleanliness and order. Numbers, facts, dates, timestamps. He swallows, throat dry.

“…About four years.”

“Wow,” Farraday murmurs, breath still fanning across Eats’ lips. “We really are stupid.” He quickly presses another kiss to Eats’ mouth, this one chaste, closed-mouth, before pulling back in hesitance, uncertainty in his shining eyes. “I can do that, right?”

“You can,” Eats replies, voice hushed and grin catlike. “If I can do _this_.” 

He leans down, pressing a kiss to the freckle on Farraday’s jaw. It’s even better than he imagined. Farraday shudders, arms wrapping around Eats’ neck. “Yes. You can absolutely, completely do that.”

“Cool,” Eats breathes, still not fully absorbing what’s happening, dizzy from Farraday’s lips on his. “Ace.”

“Do you wanna go back inside now?” Farraday asks, adjusting his glasses from their askew position as a result of the kiss.

Eats grabs Farraday’s hand, threading their fingers together and pressing a kiss to the redhead boy’s knuckles. “Not really. You wanna stay out here for another minute?”

“Didn’t know you were so sentimental,” Farraday whispers, cheeks flushed under the light from the moon and the stars. 

Eats flips him off. Farraday only grins, brighter than any dumb ball of burning gas in the sky, reaching up to brush a piece of Eats’ hair out of his face. “Yeah, okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! kudos and comments are very appreciated. my tumblr is @bigfluffysweater and my so84 sideblog is @farraeats. come say hi!


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